


Polo

by say_hello_to_the_stars



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Freckles, Horseface, I'm so sorry, JeanxMarco - Freeform, M/M, Marco Bodt - Freeform, Marco is Freckled Jesus, Oh This Is Sad I'm Sorry, Sad, This is totally not okay, WTF, freckled jesus, gay ships are yay ships, jean kirstein - Freeform, jeanmarco, marcojean - Freeform, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/say_hello_to_the_stars/pseuds/say_hello_to_the_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean never understood the game "Marco, Polo." But he's about to go see his Marco, so maybe he'll finally understand it? Kind of an AU where Marco lives. But kinda not. You'll just have to read to find out, huh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polo

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: You thought this was going to be cute, huh? Well I'm so frickle-frackin' sorry. First fic posted on here.
> 
> Enjoy. (As much as you can because I'm a terrible person for writing this.)

_There. That one's mine._ Jean directed himself towards a 10-meter class titan, his 3D gear pulling him towards the behemoth, swords drawn. Eren and Armin were speeding towards a 9-meter class, and Mikasa had to be somewhere nearby, making sure that those two kept out of danger. _There to save their asses, no doubt._ Jean thought sourly, as he neared his target. His eyes were solely on killing this titan; it was his target, his prey. He was the predator. Poising to strike, he didn't see that hand coming. That massive hand that gripped him, intent on crushing him to death.

Jean could feel his insides snapping; the titan's grip on him was crushing him, slowly but surely; like how a boa constrictor suffocates it's prey to death just before it swallows it whole. He couldn't fight it; this is the way he'd go out of the world. His vision blurred; he could just barely hear Eren and Armin's shouts, telling him to hold on, telling him that they'd be there, he'd live to see another day. Jean couldn't breathe. The world around him was getting darker and darker, and the fist around him only grew tighter and tighter every passing moment. He could only think of one thing as he prepared to die. _Marco._ He was going to see his Marco. Finally.

"Polo, motherfuckers!" Came a sudden shout, and there was the sound of 3D gear and swords, and a _pummf_ as something was cut, presumably the titan's vital region. The tightness around Jean dropped, and as he drifted off towards the dark, he could of sworn he heard his sweet, innocent little Marco cuss. _Like a sailor._ But he couldn't of, because Marco was dead, but maybe it was just the hallucinations, but he swore to God that it was Marco and he had come to take him away and he was dead- or maybe it was the familiar scent of cinnamon and something else he could never pinpoint washing over him, a pair of arms wrapping around him, and as he fell unconscious, that beautiful voice calling his name, begging him to stay with them as he felt his body being whisked through the air.

Was it really his sweet, innocent Marco carrying him and was it his poor, sweet, innocent Marco that had saved his life? He wouldn't know.. At least, he wouldn't until he'd come to in a couple of weeks. His eyes would pop open slowly as he grimaced from the invasion on his eyes and all he'd see was a mess of dark brown hair and freckles, _motherfucking freckles_ , and a hand covered in those damned _freckles_ he had missed so much, gripping onto his hand, right next to that head that was covered in messy, un-tameable dark brown hair. Marco's body was rising and falling as he snored lightly, and maybe Jean had imagined it, _but wasn't this guy dead?_ Wasn't he like, supposed to be torn apart and completely dead? Like, burnt to a crisp, in a pyre, right before his eyes, half of his body gone because some titan had torn it to shreds kind of dead? Let me just go ahead and tell you that yes, he was supposed to be dead.

"M...M..." Jean's throat was parched; his body was just a bit sore, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. All he could do was grunt, really. He tried to vocalize the words again, but by this time Marco's head had shot up, the grip on Jean's hand getting _oh_ -so-tighter. Jean stared, unable to relay how he felt at this exact moment onto the freckled boy sitting there, melting him with chocolate-brown eyes.

"Jean!" Marco eventually choked out. Jean just kept on staring, swallowing. Marco looked so pitiful, so scared, and Jean could only imagine what he looked like, laying on this bed, most likely pathetic. He finally got his thoughts together, and managed out a thin line of words.

"Ma... Marco- you're.. Here.. And.." His voice was hoarse. Jean tried to move towards Marco, but a dull soreness shot up his body and he decided against it. Marco put a hand on Jean's shoulder, pressing him gently back against his pillow, accidentally moving his own face close to Jean's. _God, Marco._ Jean thought, eyes fluttering as they followed the freckled boy as he sat back down; his hand was still gripping Jean's tightly, like he was scared to let go of it.

"Here, here." Marco finally let go as he spoke quickly, jumping to put a cup to Jean's lips. He tilted it a bit, and next thing he knew, Jean was guzzling down cool, refreshing water. Marco was chiding him to stop drinking so fast, telling him he'd get a stomachache. Once he had finished the cup, Jean could finally find his voice, but all he could ask was how; how the hell was Marco still alive, who the hell was that guy that Jean found, and why hadn't Marco come back sooner?

"I... I don't really know. I got thrown by a Titan. Far. I didn't remember much for awhile, and this nice family took me in after they found me; I.. I finally remembered who I was; I finally remembered that I had someone to get back to, and I told them that, and then I came, I rode as fast as I could.. I found some old gear on a dead soldier, and I took it. I had to find you.." Marco's eyes were everywhere else but on Jean's face. He couldn't. Jean's hand moved, painfully slowly, to Marco's face, cupping his cheek as Marco looked at his lap.

"I'm..." Jean swallowed, and tilted Marco's face up. But right before he could do anything else,

_Jean woke up._

The hospital room he was in was empty, save for himself and the flowers next to his bedside. There were no freckles.. There was no Marco. _There was no Marco._ Because Marco Bodt, number seven in the 104th Training Corps, was dead. He had been dead for awhile. Reality was a sick, cruel reminder of that.

 

_"You aren't a strong person... So you can relate to how the weak feel."_


End file.
